Welcome!
The Tamarind Journal of Literature, Art, and Culture is a yearly compilation of literature and art produced by University of The Bahamas faculty, students, and alumni. The journal serves as a platform for a diverse range of talented creatives to share their gifts with the local and international creative communities through poetry, short stories, digital and physical art, sculptures, photography, and many other mediums.
Here, you can take a look at our past volumes, free to read online, as well as our growing collection of online works. We hope the work of our contributors delights and inspires you!
“Papa, did you ever go into the attic to retrieve the decorations like I asked?” Linda’s voice cut through the hallway again, sharp enough to poke a hole through my last bit of peace. I rolled my eyes. How many times was she going to nag me about those damn decorations?
*clop* *clop* *clop*
The sound of numerous horse hooves trotting along a dirt path could be heard among the many other sounds of village life. Among the mundane ambience of the village various merchants could be spotted advertising their wares which ranged from weapons, oil, healing elixirs, herbs and many more lucrative items stored away in the pack mules residing behind their owner. However of the countless merchants lining the sides of the street one stood out the most.
It was skin prickling, chilly Halloween night. The kind of chill that makes cold seep into your bones at the very second you step outside. Goosebumps scattered across Martha’s skin as she got her son ready for trick or treating with his friends.
When Tim’s parents died his world fell into a black hole. He didn't know what to make of his life with a new reality. He felt lost, depressed and discouraged but suddenly there was light at the end of the tunnel.
Frantically stuffing the heavy duty construction garbage bag into the large plastic container, Julia dragged it into a dark corner of the basement, walked up the stairs and slammed the door behind her. Julia turned the brass key in the keyhole locking the door like she was a prison guard locking away the most dangerous killer on death row.
Sitting in the window seat, in deep thought Mary steered at the falling autumn leaves as they gently landed on the soft powdery snow. This time of year was always a difficult time for her because it was the time when she lost her mother to cancer.
Blandness.
That's what Lucas was feeling as he watched his literature teacher express the admiration of his favorite piece of reading for the umpteenth time this month.
I dreamed of nothing and prayed for silence.
“Behold!” The stars rejoiced so brightly that they almost touched, the skies shimmered with infinite arrays of light!
The celestial witnesses that stopped time itself to recognize the beauty that would outshine any immaterial concept or any material reality that would occupy the heavens in appearance and purpose!
That dilapidated house in Eastwood made every day feel like a horror film. Its current state more accurately depicts what it was like to live inside. Its paint has long faded. The grass is overgrown and weeds have destroyed a yard that was once so meticulously managed. The windows are permanently shut, with blankets covering them from the inside as not to allow anybody to see within.
The sun hung high in the Bahamian sky, casting a warm and inviting glow across campus. As my partner Mickell and I eagerly awaited the end of our classes, the minutes seemed to stretch on forever. It was one of those in-between moments when time moved at its own leisurely pace, and hunger gnawed at our insides. McDonald's was the natural choice, a beacon of familiarity amongst the student body.
Tiredness had known my mother’s face better than anything and anyone else. A diligent woman she was, always opting to work smarter instead of harder.
In the hushed shadows of remembrance, my life unfolds a canvas painted with solitude’s muted shades. The departure of love left me balancing on life’s tightrope, while divorce shattered the family mosaic I clung to.
It was during May of 2022 that several events took place that would herald the beginning of a new chapter in my life. It was a tumultuous period for me, and my family as well. It all started with the Spring 2022 term ending, and to put it simply, I had flunked it completely.
I always knew the people around me were more aware of my size than I ever was. I don't remember what specific age the shape of my body became the only thing that seemed to define me. But, what I do remember, are the moments that pushed me to become extremely obsessive with my body image.
The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the crisp white tablecloth, illuminating the half-empty glass of my lemon drop as my plate of seafood alfredo grew cold on the table. It should have been a romantic evening, a celebration of love and commitment, but a sense of unease gnawed at me as I watched D’von across the table.
Where is the perfect place to die? A dog that once had dusty white nylon carpet-like fur but is now furless with blotches on its exposed skin. It belongs to a family that one can say lives in the back of the bush, near dirt road that officially does not exist but has nothing but footprints and tire tracks.
Is this home? I wondered as I stood in the doorway of our new apartment, sighing at the plain sight of the small space; so discolored and cramped.
She was nice.
So uselessly nice.
The morning dew is,
Easy to catch.
It was welcoming and refreshing,
Yet now it hurts.
You’re old enough now to be free,
Yet the fences buzz.
But, what’s out there,
For you?
Tears are expected,
Like rain though the sun shines.
Not of sadness, but gladness because,
We see your face.
no more than twelve
walks like he is trying to sneak up on the world,
hesitating with each step,
as if the world is trying to take the little he has left.
When I say “no” I mean that
Why do I have to repeat what I say?
Why is this world so nasty,
Why do men always want their way?
This isn’t a pretty flower to much
Most pass it’s treasure unnoticed
It’s presence, much like stop signs,
we see and ignore
These ordinary flowers
are the seeds of our island,
planted more than beaches eroded and resorts built
Whilst strolling cross the alley
I saw a wilted tree
It’s roots and stems, they’ve sprouted
But unrested like me
Oh Invisible Man
Where have you gone again?
Was it to party and dance?
Wasting your liver away just for a chance
To be seen?
There is color in my skin
Where certain spots
The sun chooses to dance leaving warm
Dark paint splatters along the way.
The other parts don't have the same fate,
Where the light, blank patches were, the dark should have been.
